sketchedtext

[sketchedtext]

Terry was sure his ex wouldn’t be upset that he’d moved into the house across the street. He’d certainly paid the plastic surgeon enough.

[sketchedtext]

Eerily, eerily, eerily

The ever-growing song I sing to my son, to amuse myself:

Row, row, row your boat

Gently down the stream

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,

Life is but a dream.

Row, row, row your boat

Right across the lake

If you see the Loch Ness monster

don’t forget to quake

Row, row, row your boat

Beside the highway

If you see Fresno Nightcrawlers

don’t forget to bray

Row, row, row your boat

gently down the river

If you see Bigfoot tracks

don’t forget to shiver

Row, row, row your boat

right across the sea

if you hear a siren sing

don’t forget to flee

Row, row, row your boat

under the moonlight

If you see the Mothman flutter

it’s time to say goodnight

[sketchedtext]

The Princess Bride

Our first family costume since bubs came along Princess Buttercup, the Dread Prirate Roberts, and a Rodent of Unusual Size

[sketchedtext]

The Princess Bride

[sketchedtext]

The Letter

Luke tried to make every birthday the best day he could for Sasha. It wasn’t easy after her mother’s passing, but he did his best to keep distract her from who was missing. It never worked. Every birthday ended the same: with a letter.

One letter from Sarah for every year her daughter grew up without her. A handwritten expression of love, grief, pride and hopes. Who she imagined her daughter would be at this age, age-appropriate advice, and stories from the few years they’d had together.

It didn’t matter if they were surrounded by friends and relatives, out all day or even on a holiday, Sasha would get her letter. She used to ask Luke to read it to her when she was too young, and she still passed the sealed envelope to him as part of the tradition.

Every year, Luke forced his voice to stop shaking as he read. He tried not cry at details only Sarah knew about their lives together. He read it loudly in order to drown out Sarah’s narration in his mind, the letter perfectly matching her mannerisms.

Luke dreaded the day Sasha moved out and spent a birthday without him there to read it to her. He had an equal fear that she would sooner find out how her mother had died.

It had been sudden and unexpected. It had left Sarah no way to say goodbye to her husband and young child.

But every year, the letter appeared under Sasha’s pillow.

[sketchedtext]

ROUS

Spent the evening sewing a beanie and tail so my baby can be a Rodent Of Unusual Size at a Halloween party tomorrow. My husband and I will also be in Princess Bride costumes

[sketchedtext]

Sirens

Anna had lived there forever

In the house with the light blue door

She offered every new neighbour a hand

but they always wanted more

The Sinclair twins would use her pool

Leaving puddles and towels sprawled

Anna asked them to clean up

But they left when their mother called

Mr Dickson borrowed her power tools

Anna asked for them when they spoke

He eventually replaced them with his own

and pretended he didn’t know how they broke

Ms Lincoln borrowed ingredients

Sugar, flour, peanut butter

but when Anna fell and cried out for help

Ms Lincoln silently closed her shutters

Mrs Kathy took hours of Anna’s time

Complaining about misconduct

But whenever Anna tried to talk in turn

Kathy told her it was rude to interrupt

When the newspapers filled with warnings

Anna told all about her shelter

It had enough room and food for all

As expected of their thankless helper

At midnight the sirens blared

They feared they’d be dead before the dawn

But Anna bid them welcome to her basement

And they waited in the dark for the power to turn on

It was perhaps an hour later

Still waiting for their host to provide

That someone found the door locked

and barred from the outside

Anna carried the key upstairs

and turned off the recording of sirens

perhaps she’d let them out

When she’d had enough peace and silence

[sketchedtext]

Generation

Most parents jumped at the chance to give their children an advantage.

The government offered free IVF to couples in exchange for the right to run gene experiments prior to implantation. This led to incredible new abilities, the most common being genius-level intellect. Some went beyond expectations, gaining telepathy or telekinesis.

But playing God has a cost, and no one paid more dearly than the parents of the first baby who did not need to sleep.

[sketchedtext]

Memory Lane

On Halloween I walked alone Silent and bad-tempered I was no longer a child And nothing was as I remembered

Wandering past dark homes, Having found the evening plain I found the last road with lights still on And drifted down Memory Lane

The first home was mine, Before my parents downsized The cookies taste like they used to Before my parents died.

The next home was my best friend’s Inseparable in in our youth She gives me a slice of birthday cake She was 12 when they moved

The third home was my teacher’s I had decided he deserved a trick I help him clean away the paint His sin was merely being strict

I do not knock at the last, bright home With towers and slides on display It’s the house I once wished to live in But it does not fit who I am today

On Halloween I walk alone I watch the children with glee it is not as I remember but it is not only for me

[sketchedtext]

Anatomy

There are miracles hidden within some of us that we may never know about. But some do make that discovery.

An average man stares at the empty portion of their brain scan, having never known anything was wrong. He will be told about the ability of a child’s brain to rewire after damage, and recall an accident as a child.

A woman holds her child, whose DNA proves is her sister’s. She is an only child. She will research chimerism and learn that she had a twin, now a part of her, that produced her child’s genes.

Today the winner of the genetic lottery is Trevor, who has just found out that he has situs inversus, or mirrored organs. Most importantly, this means that his heart is on the opposite side. This is, however, terrible news for the vampire hunter who has just lodged a wooden stake through the wrong side.

[sketchedtext]

The Figure

It took months to tell the doctor about the shadowy creature that stalks around my room at night. I was terrified that I’d gone crazy.

I’d lie in bed, paralysed and conscious as it meandered around my room. It was hard to tell exactly what it did: the light around it blurred, as though pulled into the darkness of its silhouette.

When my doctor explained sleep paralysis, I felt relieved. It was common, she said, to see shadowy figures and feel a sense of dread. She also prescribed something to help and I filled the prescription happily.

Last night I woke, paralysed but unable to see any figures in my room. The medication had worked!

I will never take it again.

I could not see the figure, so I could not see what turned the pages of my book, or stirred the water in my glass, or brushed the hair out of my unblinking eyes.

[sketchedtext]

Hospitality

He came to town one day

stepping out from the mist

A man without a job or name

From a home that did not exist

Offering to make a deal,

To bargain for his supper.

But after every meal,

Our town grew little smaller

Anna made an offer first:

Tired of the farm and dirt,

Of hot days and endless thirst,

Anna wished to no longer work.

She gave him only scraps,

food too old to eat

and when she stood, she collapsed

to find she had no feet

Andrew made the second try

He wished for endless wealth

everything else would follow:

love, security and health

He offered a meal he’d burned

Never being much of a chef

So all the wealth he earned

Was insurance from his family’s death

I offered the final meal

Before anyone else could proffer

And only made my deal

So no one else would suffer

To the man I served a simple dish

Of vegetables, bread and game

But good enough for a single wish:

To wish he’d never came.

[sketchedtext]

Dragon Friends Cross Stitch

My last cross stitch the original design the (simplified) result framed

[sketchedtext]

Reminders

The sun is shining brightly outside And your friends call you to play But you must are safe inside So inside you will stay

Friends tell you to leave your room That they have a great surprise But you turn up the volume So the music covers their lies

They chide that you are better now And well enough to join their games But you still feel the scars A reminder of the schoolhouse flames

They visit on the same day each year Identical to the friends you once knew Tomorrow they will disappear Your childhood friends who never grew

[sketchedtext]

Two Sentence Stories (part 22)

She was determined to achieve her goal: a post every day of October, starting today. The calendar beside her, yet to be consulted, showed the date to be 2/10/24.

_________________________________________________________

She complained loudly about how dodgy it was for police to look into people windows to look for phone use at red lights, then listened for the sound of guilty shuffling in the backseat. As she pulled through the now green light, she tried to think of another way to stall the man she’d just noticed hiding in the backseat. _________________________________________________________

After being separated for over a year , Anne readily agreed to her shocked husband’s request to test the paternity of the baby she held. After all, they wouldn’t be comparing her DNA.

[sketchedtext]

Nursery

My last project, prior to my son arriving, was to paint a room he’s yet to sleep in. First I taped off the outlines on the mountains Then I painted the bottom mountains and the sky Once that dried, I moved the tape onto the painted sections, and filled in the middle Then I neatened the lines with a small brush

[sketchedtext]

Return

I’m going to be posting daily in October, in honour of the spookiest month and as an excuse to not try nanowrimo. I’ve been slack lately, but that’s not my fault. No one told me that when you have a baby, the hospital makes you take it home with you.